Risk
by Heather Giesbrecht
Summary: He would risk father's anger to help his great-great grandchildren. His blood abused, his blood ! Had he only known...oh what he would have done to that pathetic Midgardian. Thomas/Lucille. Complete.


**Risk**

1869

Loki held his youngest great grandchild in one arm, Thomas was only one year old. In his free hand glowed a palmful of emerald fire, which young Thomas's eyes followed rapturously until his dark blue eyes fluttered closed. Three years old Lucille tugged on the edge of his coat and she whispered, "Can I see him again, Grandfather, please ?"

After he doused the fire he crouched beside the crib so that she might take another look. There was awe, devotion, protectiveness, already in those cool, aquamarine eyes as Lucille brushed an onyx curl from Thomas's forehead. "He's beautiful, I love him and he's going to love me for ever and ever too."

Softly, he replied, "It does not quite work like that, Lucille. You cannot merely tell someone to love you and have them do it. First, you have to show them that you care for them. Secondly, if something bothers them that they cannot deal with themselves you can try handling it, so that they will appreciate your efforts. Do you understand, child ?"

The little onyx-haired girl nodded vigorously and he was left to furrow his brows when she kissed Thomas's lips instead of his forehead. Had Midgardian customs changed so much in only 70 years ? Truly he needed to try to visit more often, one could not blend in if one did not know a current custom or an approximate fashion. He rose then replaced Thomas in his crib before bidding Lucille goodbye and promising to return when he could.

1880

Loki willed himself onto the second floor landing of Allerdale Hall to hear childish giggling before an older woman screamed. Instinctively, he rushed down the hall past a few bedrooms and into a candelabrum lit bathroom. Lucille stood over a grey-haired woman's body, a meat cleaver protruding from the woman's nearly split skull. Hmm, so she at least had inherited a measure of inhuman strength from his blood. The pale-skinned woman's hand twitched against the side of the claw-footed porcelain tub, a gigantic crimson garnet set on a plain golden band glittering in the firelight.

"Lucille, why did you do that ?"

"She wanted to separate Thomas and I ! Father beat me, Mother starved us and threatened to drown Thomas. You said I was supposed to show him that I cared for him."

Loki shook his head, exclaiming, "Not like this ! You are a child, Lucille, children do not kill people." His blood abused, his blood ! Had he only known...oh what he would have done to the pathetic Midgardian. Killing her for this he could see. Yes, this he could risk father's anger for to help his great grandchildren.

"I am fourteen, Great Grandfather, I am not a child."

"Well, you can't stay here, get Thomas and leave, now !"

"No. Thomas has to see that she is dead, that she can't threaten us anymore !"

He gritted his teeth and nearly threw his hands wide in exasperation. "Fine, do so then get out before your little Midgardian police arrive. I'll distract them from your trail for a day after that it is up to you to evade them."

Lucille giggled again then ran past him with a, "Thank you, Grandfather, I won't forget this. We'll leave after I finish up and hide the knife."

Under his breath he muttered, "Neither will I and for all the wrong reasons. Here I want to spend time with my great grandchildren, but, no, I get pulled into covering up a murder instead. She's smart though, very smart to hide the knife."

While he didn't know how long they would evade capture, but he would do his part. So, he willed himself outside and set to work using magic to shrink and duplicate his steps in the snow heading toward the open plains instead of the forest where they would go if they had sense. If they made it to the forest, if they managed to evade the police, he could take them home with him. Four days later, they'd not shown up and he called for Heimdall to open the Bifrost.

The golden armoured Gatekeeper shook his head. "As I know what they went through I will neither condone nor reprove their actions or your own in helping their escape."

"Good, I am glad that we understand each other."

That near week ago was the last time that he ever saw Thomas and Lucille alive. The very last time that he saw them at all ? Two gravestones.

One marked: 1866 - 1901, Lady Lucille Sharpe. The other ? 1868 - 1901, Sir Thomas Sharpe.

He couldn't bear to inquire what had happened to kill them on the same day. After all, whatever had happened it'd been violent. Midgardians, damn Midgardians, first they abused his grandchildren and now murdered them. Someday, someday, when he had the perfect opportunity he was going to take his vengeance. They had risked and lost utterly. They were going to die, every last one of them.


End file.
